


Over The Moon

by Lesetoilesfous



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesetoilesfous/pseuds/Lesetoilesfous
Summary: Taako has been through a lot, and it's not a pretty story.Featuring: everyone's favourite traumatised elf, found family and abusive Sazed. Otherwise known as "how Taako learned to love again", or something cheesy like that.Please be aware that whilst non-con is not described explicitly, the warnings are there for a reason. Proceed with caution.





	1. Taako: The Early Years

**Author's Note:**

> One writer's attempt at Taako's backstory as he remembers it, pre-Lunar Interlude V.
> 
> This fic features a lot of childhood trauma. There are no graphic descriptions of sex in this story, however, it is referenced. Abusive relationships in a number of forms are described, which are both emotionally and physically abusive in nature. Sexual abuse is implied. Strong language is used throughout.
> 
> If you are comfortable with proceeding, then I can promise you that it has a happy ending. Love was the answer all along.

“Wow.”

 

“I know, right?”

 

“You never see them that young. Not outside the citadels. Where’d you find it?”

 

Taako’s “saviour”, a towering, barrel chested human who stank of tobacco and whiskey, heaved a belly-shaking laugh. “Just on the side of the track. Honestly, thought it was road kill at first. But there it was, sticking up its thumb at my caravan.”

 

The stranger whistles. “Lucky.”

 

They’re an orc and they’re acting like Taako isn’t standing right next to them with his ears pressed against his skull. He’s not an “it”. But he’s not going to say that now. He knows how to read a room.

 

The human, Ethan, roughly tussles Taako’s hair, and Taako tries not to flinch away. “Not really, they’re high maintenance when they’re young, you know.”

 

The orc looks surprised, their blue eyes widening. “No magic?”

 

Ethan makes a non-committal grunt, squinting down at Taako. Taako hates the fact that he barely reaches the man’s waist. “Not that it’s shown yet. Either it’s shy or it’s the runt of the litter.”

 

The orc’s interest diminishes, and they shrug, moving their attention away to the rest of the caravan’s wares. Taako resists the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He hears their last words as they step away, and he wishes he hadn’t. “Maybe that’s why they kicked it out?”

 

Young elves are something of a novelty, he discovers. Taako sees a handful of adolescent dark elves on his travels: they have a habit of forming street gangs, and he’s envious of the loyalty they obviously show one another. But it doesn’t take long for him to stop noticing the surprise, the staring, from most other races. “You never see those far away from home.” People often ask Ethan where he found Taako. As if Taako’s abandonment is somehow the human’s achievement.

 

Taako bites his lip. He tries not to think about it. When he’s twelve years old, he reaches as high as Ethan’s waist. He starts to notice something in his gaze: in the gaze of the others that travel with him.

 

Their comments shift in tone. “They’re known for their beauty, you know?”

 

“What, elves?”

 

“Obviously. Have you looked at the runt recently?” Half-hearted laughs. “Wish I had hair like that.”

 

“Wish the wife had eyes like that.”

 

Taako isn’t entirely sure what they mean but he’s been on the road long enough to know a threat when he hears one. He runs.

 

He thinks they chase him. He stays on edge for days, miserably fighting off the chill as his useless, ragged pants are soaked through by dew-damp fields. He hides in trees and hopes no one finds him and can’t sleep until he’s too tired to do anything else.

 

He wakes up in a net of woven hemp.

 

A Dragonborn is staring at him, their frill blown wide: he thinks it’s in excitement, but he braces himself for fire anyway. “Holy shit.” They call their friends over. Taako’s actually getting pretty good at languages, out of necessity more than anything, but his Dragonborn is definitely the rustiest.

 

A Tiefling and an Orc leave their campfire to join their companion, and both stare when they see Taako huddled in their net. The Tiefling’s expression softens.

 

“What are you doing so far from home, little one?”

 

They’re kind. Kinder than he thought they would be. Three women, travelling together, he quickly learns that they’re mercenaries. It doesn’t bother him. He’s seen death often enough by now. That fact seems to bother them, but he tries not to notice.

 

They ask, often, why he’s so far from his citadel. He pushes back the memories and doesn’t answer. He offers to cook for them, and reluctantly at first they let him. Their attitude changes after they taste his first stew. The orc, Ellen, ruffles his hair, but her touch is much gentler than Ethan’s, and her movement is slow enough to let him duck away if he wants to. He doesn’t. It feels nice.

 

The thing about mercenaries is that theirs is a dangerous occupation. Taako watches them run, wounded: sees them forget him as their pursuers press forward, and the arrow in his calf hurts far less than the sobs breaking through his chest.

 

These are men again, and Taako is warier, harder now. He’s thirteen years old and he doesn’t trust them, and he leaves his hair and face filthy and he hopes it hides whatever it was that made the first ones so interested. He’s lucky, in a sense. These are bounty hunters: a few dwarves, goblins, orcs. They’re not interested in...whatever it was the others were interested in.

 

But they’re cruel. He makes himself useful. He cooks and he cleans and he carries what he can and they don’t kill him. They treat him like a dog.

 

“Come here.”

 

“Stay.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

He pretends he doesn’t care about the words: the only things spoken to him over long, lonely nights trekking through the woods as they hunt their prey. He pretends he’s not thinking about the women who left him, the women they’re hunting. He pretends he’s not trying to figure out how to sabotage this hunt. He has no reason to care.

 

Soon enough, they start to enforce their words with violence. Between themselves they’re hardly gentle, but to Taako they’re vicious. Sharply aimed kicks and boxes about the ears start giving way to fingers in his hair smacking his head against tree trunks. The flats of swords hitting the backs of his thighs. Belts and riding crops.

 

Taako fingers the welts on the back of his neck and calves at night and vaguely remembers something about elves being able to heal with magic and wishes he knew where to begin to find that power in himself. He cries and wonders how they don’t know why he shakes now when he serves them their food, even as they beat him for spilling it.

 

They’re frustrated, foiled. Key tracks are missing. Bits of fabric elude even their most canny wizards. That frustration falls on Taako’s back. He tries to bear it and can’t and lets himself fall further back inside his own mind. His movements become mechanical. He learns how to say, “sir”.

 

When the women come back he thinks he’s dreaming. It doesn’t take long to turn into a nightmare. Rose opens her mouth and breathes fire and lightning over the camp and Hannah rolls a blizzard between her palms and Ellen charges, Morningstar swinging and there’s so much blood. And then something hits one of them and Taako can’t watch, he doesn’t want to watch, he doesn’t want to see this.

 

Hannah stumbles and Taako sees one of the humans prepare a spell and he doesn’t think he just hears her voice in his mind when they found him, “what are you doing so far from home, little one?” And it’s so soft and he can’t watch her die so he throws himself at the human’s legs and his concentration is broken and his spell barrels skywards and that’s all the chance Rose needs to throw a dagger at his neck.

 

Taako can’t breathe and he stumbles backwards as the human slumps and Ellen is decapitating people and Taako hated these men but he can’t watch this and he wraps his arms around his legs and hides. And then Rose is running towards him with her mouth open and she’s saying something and he can’t hear it and Ellen’s whirling and he hears the sword before he feels it sinking into his shoulder and then he’s screaming.


	2. Taako: The Brothel's Chef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taako is sixteen years old and he knows that he works in a brothel. Up until now, that’s been a technicality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prostitution is alluded to throughout this chapter. There is no mention of sexual abuse, although there is a description of attempted assault. There is no non-con in this chapter.

When Taako wakes up, he’s warm. For a moment, he’s worried. He thinks he might be sick. He’s never warm. There’s light, somewhere, behind his eyelids. He waits, and listens. He’s learned to do that. His ears twitch at the sounds of cooking. Footsteps on staircases. Voices.

 

But nothing close.

 

The tension that had been holding his body together too tightly, like a string pulled through fabric, relaxes. Slowly, he opens his eyes. There’s a bright light above him and he remembers a sword and an ache sinks through his shoulder and he wonders if he’s dead.

 

But then footsteps move past his door and he starts and he feels the rough sheets beneath his arms and shudders before he realises he’s fully clothed. His shoulder is bandaged and he’s fairly certain there was magic involved because he’s also sure that he shouldn’t, by all rights, be alive: let alone able to move.

 

With difficulty, he heaves himself into a sitting position, wincing. His cuts and bruises stand out against the white sheets on which he’s lying. There’s a window next to him. He’s never had one of those before. For a moment, he’s mesmerised by the city beyond it. And then he notices a roll of parchment, tied with string, sitting on the stone before him.

 

With shaking, calloused fingers, he unrolls it.

 

_“Dear Taako,_

_We wish we could have done more for you. Our lives are too dangerous for a child. We cannot bring you into this. We’re sorry we ran. We thought you were dead. If you ever need a mercenary when you’re older, you know our names. We’ll find you._

_With love,_

_Rose, Ellen, Hannah”_

 

He pretends he isn’t crying, even as he hugs the paper to his shaking chest. He’s so busy not crying that he almost doesn’t notice the hand on the doorknob. Almost. Taako’s spent long enough dodging and bearing blows by this point to know when somebody is entering his space. With a quick swipe of his eyes, he lies back down, tucking the paper into his tunic.

 

Too many things have been taken from him already.

 

A beautiful human woman steps into the room. She has curly black hair and bright blue eyes and very faint freckles. She’s taller than him. Most people are. She smiles when she sees him watching her.

 

“You know, for a child that was brought to me stinking and half dead, you’re really rather pretty, aren’t you?”

 

Taako flinches. The woman does not look surprised, though her smile gets a little gentler.

 

“I thought that might be the case.” She sits on the bed next to him, and Taako fights hard against the urge to push himself back and away from her. She reaches out to touch his hair, and his ears press flat back against his head. He hates it when people do that.

 

She ignores his expression, winding a strand of golden, wavy hair between her fingers, and holding it next to his dark skin. Her eyes are calculating for a moment, before she lets it go and sits back. Taako watches her mistrustfully.

 

“You know, there are a lot of reasons the elves don’t let their children out of their citadels.” Her expression turns pensive. “Things must have been pretty bad, for you to try and leave.”

 

Taako thinks, _they were_. And then he thinks, _I might not have done it, if I’d known the world would be like this._

 

The woman gently lays her hand on his, and he fights the urge to flinch back and regrets it when her bracelet, a silver snake, slivers from her wrist and onto his. Now he does jerk back, attempting with difficulty to pull it off. When he fails, he holds it up to her, chin jutting forward in defiance. Hell, he nearly died once already. Might as well finish it.

 

“What the hell is this?”

 

The woman raises one perfectly shaped, dark eyebrow. “Oh so you do talk, do you?”

 

Taako grits his teeth. “You didn’t answer my question.”

 

The woman looks at her nails. “The women who left you here: mercs, right?” She looks at Taako. He says nothing. “I don’t think they quite understand what an asset a young elf is to a woman in a business like mine.”

 

Taako feels sick. The woman stands.

 

“That said, I’m not a monster. Here’s the deal, kid. You earn your keep, you stay. You don’t, you don’t want to see me when I’m angry.” Her smile is soft and beautiful and infinitely threatening. Taako can’t stop the shudder that rolls down his spine.

 

She grins. “The mercs said you were a mean cook. Think you can handle my kitchen?”

 

Taako hadn’t quite noticed how long he’d spent not breathing, but at this olive branch he nearly sobs in relief. He nods and the woman’s smile softens. Then, brusquely, she holds out a hand. “The names Georgie. Yours?”

 

“T-Taako.”

 

Georgie laughs before she leaves. “Well. I’ve heard stranger.”

 

* * *

 

Working for Georgie is hard, and Taako resolutely spends his first month not knowing the exact nature of her business. Which is to say that he has suspicions, powerful ones, and he is trying to push them away with all the strength he has.

 

He wakes at 4am and works till midnight, and is often roused in between by thumps and groans in the bedrooms next to his. ( _He has his own bedroom!)_ He tells himself the house: extraordinarily large, is haunted.

 

Men and women and people who are just people come to the kitchen in clothes that hardly merit the term. Taako tells himself the kitchen is just hot. It is. Often, he’ll wear little more than a tunic in there himself. He pretends the lewd terms they exchange with each other: their giggles and their makeup and their jewellery, mean nothing except youth and vivacity. He doesn’t look at the silver snakes clasped around their wrists that look just like the one on his. He doesn’t read the labels on the pink bottles they give him “for difficult customers”.

 

He just does his job and he eats what he’s given and he tries to sleep and he tries not to shudder. At least he doesn’t have to meet “the customers”. Georgie’s employees are sharp, clever, manipulative, but they’re kind too, in their own way.

 

He feels a little bit like their pet, but he’s been treated worse. He lets them run their perfumed fingers through his hair and over his ears, marvelling over how soft they are, and he tries to numb himself to the pulling touches. Over time, he almost finds it comforting, when they rest their elbows on his head like touchy siblings, or loop their arms through his when they’re trying to get a little extra spice into their food.

 

He almost lets himself think that they like him: with the way they coo and tease, the way they begin to congregate in the door to the kitchen. The old chef was a bully, they say. Lecherous and gross, they say. He’s so much prettier. So much cuter. They like him, they say.

 

After six months, he starts to smile at them, and it’s so darling, they say. They start to tousle his hair and he doesn’t mind. After a time, a long time, one of them pronounces to four others that elves don’t like people touching their ears. They stare at him and their gazes are sharp and pretty and Taako’s a little frightened so he focuses on the broth he’s making and when they ask he replies, hesitantly, that no, he doesn’t like that.

 

He waits for a hand to hit him, or worse. Instead, one of the older ones, a beautiful girl with olive skin and soft curves called Rita, barrels into the kitchen and wraps her arms around his chest: he’s fifteen and he’s a little taller now but he’s still shorter than her. She coos, “ _mijo_ , I’m so sorry, we didn’t realise.” And just like that they stop.

 

Taako starts getting a little more confident. He starts raising his chin. Sometimes when they tease, he teases back, and their delight eggs him on. He picks up their sharpness, their flirtation, they way they move their bodies that looks so graceful, like water. He dances in the kitchen and blushes when they catch him until Filippe grabs his hips gently and shows him how to move just so.

 

A few days later, Roberto corrects him, and that starts a sibling-like fight between them on the best way to dance. Taako blushes and smiles and gets better and better at cooking because he likes this and he likes them and he wants them to like it and they do. The four hour nights of sleep don’t seem so bad any more. He gets stronger, a cook needs to be. He stops flinching as much. He hasn’t needed to in over a year.

 

He wakes up in the morning and looks out at a city whose streets he’s never walked and he doesn’t mind because he feels safe.

 

So naturally that changes. He’s up late one night. He doesn’t need to be but he wants to be. He’s trying to perfect the recipe for the world’s best slow cooked chicken, and he’s fairly certain it needs thirty garlic cloves. He’s left the lights off: he doesn’t need them on, he learnt very young that he could see in the dark. His face is illuminated by the faint glow of fire from the oven.

 

A human man stumbles through the doorway. He’s not one of Georgie’s employees. Taako knows that from the loudness of his footsteps alone, and he should’ve heard him coming, would’ve heard him coming if he hadn’t been so absorbed by his cooking. He flinches back and straightens up, then swears at himself, hoping the man hasn’t noticed.

 

He stinks of vodka that Taako can smell from across the room. He grabs a ladle and clutches it to his chest and pretends that it’s a realistic weapon. The man takes a moment for his eyes to adjust and Taako thanks the gods for his natural advantage and looks behind him for another door and remembers too late that there isn’t one.

 

The man stumbles forward: he doesn’t seem to have noticed Taako yet. “Something smells amazing.” He moves towards the oven. Taako’s heart sinks but he doesn’t move. Let him have it. It’s fine. He’ll just make another one. His ears sink low as the man pulls open the oven door. It sheds a little more light into the room.

 

Taako bites his lip. He doesn’t notice the fact that he’s started shaking. He didn’t realise he was still scared of human men like this: big and blunt and muscular and rough and dirty. His elbow knocks a rack of utensils and they rattle and the man looks up and Taako cowers.

 

It takes agonising seconds for the man to see him but then he has and his eyes go wide and he starts to smile and Taako bolts.

 

The man catches him around the gut easily, winding him, and his grin is wider now, and his breath stinks of alcohol as he stares down at Taako. “Holy shit, I didn’t know they had elves here.” He reaches out for Taako’s hair and Taako flinches away and he frowns, fishing in his pocket for a second before bringing out a coin with a crude depiction of a naked woman on it.

 

“Come on, I paid already.” He reaches out again, and Taako steps back, brandishing the ladle. He tries not to stammer when he speaks and almost succeeds.

 

“S-stay back. Stay away from me.”

 

The man’s frown deepens and he steps away from the oven. “What? You think you’re better than me?” He huffs. “Typical fucking elf.”

 

He bares his teeth and laughs, stupid and drunk and dangerous. “Fucking Elf.”

 

Taako swallows and takes another step back and it’s then that he realises two things very suddenly and they crash over his skull like a bucket of icy water. First, his back is against the wall, literally. Second, he never learned how to fight back.

 

The man is over him now, and Taako weakly tries to push against his chest, to wriggle away, to do something. He laughs and grabs Taako’s slender wrists with one big, sweaty, calloused hand, pressing them against the wall as he leans down over him.

 

Taako wrinkles his nose as the stench of the man’s breath fills his mouth. “I’ve never seen an elf this young.” He says it with a sort of wonder and Taako wants to throw up and he tries to pull his hands away and then the man’s other hand is in his hair and it’s slamming his head back against the wall and he sees stars.

 

Whilst he’s trying to see again he feels the man’s hand move down his body, trailing over his ribs and hips and thigh as his mouth moves to his ear and Taako’s skin crawls and he’s shaking and then there’s a smash and he hears Filippe’s voice clearly say “ _Sleep_ ”.

 

There’s a flash of blue light and the man slumps forward as his grip slackens and Taako yelps and wriggles away from him and stumbles and falls backwards and looks up to see Filippe: tall and handsome and barely dressed, fingers crackling with blue electricity. The silver bracelet around his wrist burns red, but Taako doesn’t think it hurts him. For one second, he looks fierce and dangerous. And then his expression softens and he’s running forwards and he’s brushing Taako’s hair away from his face and looking him over and asking too many questions for Taako to follow.

 

“Are you ok? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you? Did he do anything? What did he say? Oh god you’re shaking like a leaf, _chiquito_.”

 

There’s a flurry of hurried footsteps and they’re soft enough for Taako to know they’re his fam -- co-workers, but they’re loud enough for him to know that something’s wrong, and then Roberto and Rita and Cassandra and Thea and Lisa are there and they’re worried and they’re fussing over him. And then Roberto and Filippe are pulling the man out of the room.

 

Taako is sixteen years old and he knows that he works in a brothel. Up until now, that’s been a technicality: he’s the chef and he’s a good chef. Rita presses her fingers around his skull, touching the spot where there’s a raised bump and he hisses and she coos and kisses his forehead and he feels the familiar tingle of magic. Her bracelet glows and then the pain is gone and he’s better and she smiles at him. She looks sad.

 

Thea bites her lip and looks at Cassandra. Lisa speaks. “I guess the secret’s out.” Rita frowns and strokes Taako’s hair and says nothing. Taako tries not to process what they’re saying.

 

Thea says, half-heartedly, “We could always pretend -“

 

Cassandra interrupts that thought, “Georgie would find out. It’s better if it isn’t the hard way.” Rita’s eyes shine a little in the dark, she’s human and Taako isn’t sure if she knows he can see that, but then she’s wrapping her arms around him and hugging him hard and he lets her but it feels more desperate than usual and it scares him.

 

She whispers in Spanish as she holds him, pressing his face into her hair, and Taako isn’t sure why but it makes his eyes sting too. “ _Oh mi hijo, oh mi pobre niño_ ”.

 

He’s pretty sure what they’re going to want him to do and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to do it and he’s also sure that he doesn’t want to leave. It’s 3am and he’s got what little he owns packed and he’s pretending he isn’t crying, again, when Georgie gets to his door.

 

Taako flinches back. On instinct, his fingers move to his bracelet. She doesn’t look surprised. Instead she looks at the (pitifully) small sack on his shoulder.

 

“I figured that’d be how you’d feel.”

 

Taako doesn’t say anything. She sighs.

 

“You could have a good life here, kid. I treat my people well. We don’t take rough sorts, and we keep clean.” Taako swallows, he still doesn’t say anything. Georgie watches him closely. “You’re _wanted_ here.”

 

Taako’s mouth is dry and he isn’t sure why, but he says, “I don’t want to do it.” Georgie nods, and shrugs. She’s wearing a beautiful white dress. She always dresses well. She slips a hand into her pocket and fishes out a bag of coins. They’re heavy when he catches them.

 

She sees the surprise on his face and smiles. “Well, you did good work. It’s only fair you get paid for it.”

 

Taako takes a deep breath. After a moment he says, “thank you.”

 

Georgie shrugs again, looking past him at the moon, hanging low in the sky through his window. “Remember what you learnt here, Taako. You are beautiful. That can be a weapon.”

 

And he knows that by now but he doesn’t say he doesn’t want to use it like they do, not yet. He goes to leave, and Georgie catches his arm, and for one awful, hopeful moment, Taako thinks she’s going to make him stay. Instead, he feels the tickle of his bracelet crawling down his arm onto hers. She says, “you’ve always got a job here, if you ever find yourself out on a limb.”

 

Taako tries a smile and the scar on his shoulder aches. There’s no one to say goodbye when he leaves and he thinks he understands why, but there’s a small bag of makeup and jewellery in the kitchen and a note that smells of perfume covered in lipstick marks. He takes them with him and ignores the emptiness in his chest as he walks into the sunrise.


	3. Taako: The Best Idea Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he’s eighteen, he’s making macarons and he’s missing an ingredient he was sure he bought, and sparks fly from his fingers and icing sugar falls onto them like snow from nowhere. Taako stares and his heart races and he’s not sure how happy he feels about this, thinking, he could’ve used this earlier. He’s thinking, half-heartedly, cooking magic is pretty fucking useless in a world like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-con is referred to in this chapter. It is not described explicitly. Please do not read unless you feel comfortable doing so.

Taako is seventeen years old and he’s a lot better at this now. He’s good at finding the second or third strongest man in the room because they’re the one with something to prove,He’s learned how to play them like a cat with a ball of string without ever actually having to give them anything, and most of the time it works. He starts to learn how to defend himself: it’s been too long and most of the men he finds think it’s sexy when he holds a sword.

 

They find it much less attractive when he’s got his dagger to their throat whilst they’re emptying their pockets. Taako tells himself he doesn’t care about the fear in their eyes, because he’s got the power now and he needs the power now. He will not be weak again.

 

He gets into the habit of lying about his age, and as he gets taller the comments about it slow until they stop coming entirely. Elven vitality is a benefit, he starts meeting others in their 60s who look as old as he does. He gets used to the idea that he’s going to look this way for a while.

 

He’s a stupendous cook. He picks up jobs as a chef with the ease of someone older and more qualified and gets into the habit of keeping samples on his person to sway cynical employers. He doesn’t stay put anywhere long, though. He almost thinks he physically can’t, any more, and he won’t admit that it’s the rejection he can’t bear.

 

When he’s eighteen, he’s making macarons and he’s missing an ingredient he was sure he bought, and sparks fly from his fingers and icing sugar falls onto them like snow from nowhere. Taako stares and his heart races and he’s not sure how happy he feels about this, thinking, _he could’ve used this earlier_. He’s thinking, half-heartedly, _cooking magic is pretty fucking useless in a world like this_.

 

When his latest boss wanders into the caravan to ask how the “snacks” are going, they stop in surprise. Taako asks them what’s wrong and they shrug, mumbling something about how they thought his ears just hung down naturally. Taako blushes, and it’s only then when he raises a light hand to his ears after they’re gone that he notices they’re perked up in excitement. He allows himself a small smile and, experimentally, twirls a finger. He’d been going for rosewater, but lavender works for now.

 

The problem, he realises, when he’s nineteen years old and he’s being pushed back by a human against the wooden wall of an inn, is that he’s still not physically strong. He’s agile, sure. He’d go so far as to say graceful. But his ability to put the skin back onto a chicken isn’t great when he’s out of spells and there’s a heavy fist in his shirt and a smile on his assailant’s face.

 

The bruises hurt so much less than the rest does in the morning. Taako lets himself cry for a minute before he composes himself, wishing he could cast something like Calm Emotions. Then he tries to sit and fails. At least the human’s gone. He presses his hand over his face and shudders and he wishes he wasn’t so alone and he wishes that the world would just leave him be.

 

He gets cannier after that, wilier. Crueller. He still uses his looks to his advantage, he hasn’t forgotten that advice, but he’s sharper. He lets himself reel people in only to push them back. He takes the title “High Maintenance” and polishes it until it gleams because it keeps the crowds at arms length.

 

He learns how to think of sex as physical exercise and he tells himself that it doesn’t bother him. Over time, he learns how to turn it into another weapon in his arsenal. Over time, he thinks he could have worked for Georgie after all, slipping to his knees in a toilet in exchange for some protection on the road.

 

When he’s 21 he has a stupid idea and shuts it down before he can get too excited because good things like that don’t happen to people like him. He leaves the man he was sleeping with in the night because he doesn’t know what it means to take a lover but he’s fairly certain he never has.

 

Three days later, he catches himself doodling a plan in his notebook. He tries not to stop himself. He tells himself he can dream. He tells himself there’s not much point in living if he can’t. He ignores the hungry looks of the men and women with whom he’s travelling and hides the book from them.


	4. Taako: The Sazed Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sazed makes a disbelieving sound. Taako amps up the charm, taking another step forward and pretending it doesn’t feel like wading through tar. He’s done this before. He can do it again. Find the second or third strongest man in the room. Let them protect you. Make them stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sazed is physically and emotionally abusive in this fic. The fact that he is sexually abusive is also implied. Please proceed with caution.

When Taako is 23 years old he meets a soft, gentle, human man called Sazed who looks at him like he’s hung the moon. He’s seen that look before, but Sazed doesn’t use it as an excuse to take what he wants from him. Not at first, anyway.

 

After three months of nothing but respect and polite words of admiration and most surprising of all, a dedicated loyalty to protecting him from everything up to and including lecherous stares, Taako shares his idea. He needs to share it with someone, and he’s a little bit drunk on enchanted liquor and he finally figured out the name for it.

 

He spreads his hands wide and ignores the way Sazed is staring at his ears with mesmerised delight and slurs a little as he speaks: “I’ll call it ‘Sizzle-it-up with Taako’ and you,” he loops his arm around Sazed’s shoulders a little more heavily than he would sober and ignores the way he blushes, “you, my dude, will be my right hand man.”

 

Sazed beams. “That sounds amazing.” He sounds like he means it. Taako pretends that he doesn’t feel like his heart is about to burst out of his chest.

 

They get really, really good at what they do. They play the Underdark, Phandolin, even Goldcliff. Taako works transmutation into his cooking like he’s dancing and lives for the audience as they gasp and laugh and applaud. For the first time in his life he feels like he is actually important. Not because he’s pretty. Not because he’s an elf. But because he is himself, and he has a talent, and these people love him, specifically.

 

They like his looks but they also like his jokes, and his snipes, and his personality. People buy t-shirts with his face on them and they tell him how he inspired them, how they followed his example, how they think he’s so clever and talented and beautiful, and Taako tries to pretend it doesn’t touch him but it does. He gets a reputation for his kindness to his fans and he’s proud of it. Children approach him on the street and adults treat him with respect and he stops having to worry about where his next meal is coming from.

 

Sometimes people go too far. Sometimes they’re a little bit too eager to get to know ‘the real’ Taako. Sometimes they show up to too many shows. Sometimes they want to know too many details about his past. Most of the time Sazed deals with them, but by this point in his life Taako can do that too. He finds an unknown man trying to walk into his kitchen and this time he doesn’t blink before lazily casting a Ray of Frost that blasts him backwards onto his arse, using Mage Hand to shut the door just because he can.

 

He’s come a long way from being that shaking boy and he doesn’t think about it if he can help it. He’s becoming a powerful wizard and he likes it: likes the feeling of danger (and beneath that safety, protection, strength), and when he’s not working on his recipes and his transmutation and his hair he’s playing with increasingly powerful Scorching Rays.

 

He catches Sazed watching him with something like doubt and pretends he doesn’t notice, because he doesn’t do emotional attachments, not even for people like this. The next time a fan tries to surprise him on the road, Taako casts Bigby’s Hand without breaking a sweat. Later, rubbing his arm, Sazed mumbles something about how he doesn’t really need hired muscle any more, huh?

 

Taako doesn’t say anything, but he offers a smile when he gives him his food despite himself and says he still needs someone to carry the bags. Sazed blushes and frowns and Taako tries not to think about it.

 

Sazed starts trying to help with the show. Taako knows he’s trying to make himself useful: knows the feeling, the fear of becoming redundant and being rejected. But there’s something else, too. Something that sets the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. Something in the way that Sazed starts trying to clumsily bump his hips. Touch his hands. Run his fingers through his hair.

 

It’s been a year and Taako tries to brush it off with playful punches to his arms, with forced, “you’re my friend, right?” With jokes and food fights. But his heart is sinking because he sees the look in Sazed’s eyes and it’s been there since day one and he’s cursing himself because he knows that but what’s worse is that by this point he can’t let another person go.

 

So when Sazed starts getting sour, and mean, muttering things like “what the fuck am I doing this for”; making comments about a pay-off that never came; talking about how Taako never gives him what he deserves; never gives him something that obviously isn’t the money Taako, despite himself, has always been careful to split evenly, Taako holds his tongue.

 

One day it comes to a head. They’ve finished a show and Taako is high with excitement and delight because they _love_ him and he was perfect and he’s expecting Sazed to be happy for him but when he goes backstage Sazed has his arms folded and his expression is sour with jealousy.

 

“You’re such a whore, you know that?”

 

Taako flinches and wishes his ears didn’t flick back as sharply as they did because he sees Sazed’s grim smile and he knows he’s more transparent than he’s ever wanted to be. He tries to compose himself. “You sound jealous, darling.”

 

“Don’t call me that.” Sazed snaps, and he steps forward, and Taako could use a spell, he could push him away, he could get rid of him if he wanted to, and he keeps telling himself that as he starts to shake.

 

He’s trying so hard to stay calm. “What, darling? Why not? We’re friends aren’t we?”

 

Sazed growls something incoherent and grabs Taako’s shoulder and Taako tells himself that he lets him, that he isn’t a child again, frightened of the big human man. “That’s it? I’ve been working for you for a year. I’ve catered to your every fucking need. I’ve put up with your shit fits and your nerves and your desperate pathetic fucking need for praise. And what do I get? Nothing!”

 

He doesn’t mean it. He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it. Taako can’t breathe.

 

Sazed steps back, running a hand through his hair, and he looks somewhere between anxious and angry and Taako thinks - hopes - that he’s just been pushed too far. That this isn’t what he’s been thinking all along. That Taako’s friendship isn’t so worthless that it counts for nothing.

 

“I mean fuck, Taako, a man has needs. Am I not being obvious enough?”

 

And he has been. He’s been making comments about Taako: about his face and his body and his voice for months, and Taako’s so used to it from everybody that he’s managed to brush it off. To pretend it means nothing. To pretend this man was interested in him for his personality and his talent, not his waistline and his lips. What a fucking joke.

 

Taako wants to be angry and he can’t be because all he can feel is fear because Sazed is standing next to the door and he doesn’t want to be alone again.

 

“Well?” Sazed’s voice is too loud in the night and for one hot, humiliating moment Taako worries that a member of the audience will hear him. Sazed sees his eyes slide sideways and huffs in disgust. “Oh, right, wouldn’t want your fucking fans to know what a fucking cocktease you are.”

 

Taako feels like he’s been punched in the gut and tries not to let it show. He takes another deep breath. “I-I didn’t know.” He’s almost startled by his own stammer. He hasn’t done it in so long.

 

Sazed snorts. “Yeah, right. Don’t think I don’t see you watching. You’re fucking manipulative. You know that, right? And you thought you could just use me, keep me hanging like a fucking dog. Well you know what? I’ve had enough.”

 

He steps backwards, and he’s watching Taako carefully, and almost a decade later the wizard will know that Sazed manipulated his vulnerability as much as he did the same, but at that moment all he can feel is panic.

 

“I’m leaving. Obviously, I’m never getting a fucking pay off. I guess you think you’re better than me or something.” Sazed sneers. “Fucking elves.” Taako flinches again, and Sazed bends down and picks up a bag he must have packed during the show, and Taako’s heart is so big in his throat it takes him a minute to work around it - long enough for Sazed to open the door.

 

He reaches his hand out and it’s crackling with magic and Sazed watches it coolly as Taako gets himself under control. “No!”

 

Sazed folds his arms, stone-faced. “No what?”

 

Taako takes a deep breath and ignores his nausea and his anger and his sadness and the betrayal and tucks a lock of hair behind his ear: not difficult, pressed tightly as it is against his skull. Then he puts on his most winning smile and his heart falls into his stomach and he steps forwards and makes his eyes go soft.

 

“No, I was just, I was scared.”

 

Sazed makes a disbelieving sound. Taako amps up the charm, taking another step forward and pretending it doesn’t feel like wading through tar. He’s done this before. He can do it again. Find the second or third strongest man in the room. Let them protect you. Make them stay.

 

“I mean it, babe. I’ve never felt this way before.” He hasn’t. He feels like his ribs are going to break with the effort of holding it in. Hesitantly, he touches Sazed’s arm.

 

He ignores the hope in Sazed’s eyes. The way it makes him look vulnerable. The way Taako almost, almost, honestly pities him. He forces a laugh. “I haven’t really been in what you’d call a relationship before.”

 

Sazed’s posture slackens, and slowly he raises an arm to wrap it around his back. Taako lets him. He feels his fingers run through his hair. He restrains his shudder. “It’s ok, baby. We can take it slow.”

 

Taako almost can’t breathe. He forces his next question out past the bile in his mouth. “You won’t leave?”

 

Sazed drops his bag, lifting a rough palm to Taako’s cheek. He looks remorseful. “Nah. I won’t. I’m sorry love. I just. I was so tired.” Taako shoves down his own anger.

 

“It’s alright. You scared me.” He hates to admit it.

 

Sazed laughs. “I can tell. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you shake like that.” He almost sounds proud of himself. Proud that he can make Taako so naked. Taako tries not to feel anything at all, especially when Sazed’s fingers come under his chin, lifting his face up.

 

“So you feel the same way?”

 

Taako resists the urge to swallow, makes himself meet the soft wonder in Sazed’s eyes, and the hardness behind that. He tries a smile and it doesn’t dimple his cheeks the way his real ones do. “Yeah.”

 

Sazed grins. “I knew it. I knew you wanted it.” And then he’s grabbing Taako’s face and kissing him and Taako’s letting him and he’s pressing his tongue into Taako’s mouth and Taako is just not there any more. He’s letting this happen. He can let this happen, if it makes him stay.

 

When he pulls back, Sazed is blushing and his eyes are glazed with lust. He stares at Taako in glee for a moment before glancing up and frowning a little. Taako flinches, and if Sazed notices then he doesn’t comment. He flicks one of Taako’s ears, hard, and it hurts, but Taako doesn’t say anything. He might later. He might not.

 

“Aren’t these supposed to lift up when you’re happy or something?”

 

Taako swallows everything he wants to say. “They’ve got a mind of their own.”

 

* * *

 

 Later, when he’s done and sleeping, deeply, Taako sits up with some difficulty, slipping his feet into his boots. He doesn’t think Sazed was rough on purpose, chalking it down to lack of skill and enthusiasm over any real malice. It doesn’t mean he aches any less. He knows Sazed has forgotten that he doesn’t sleep. Sazed hasn’t bothered to learn much about elves in the time they’ve spent together.

 

Taako tells himself that doesn’t bother him. Like a sleepwalker, he leaves their caravan and goes into the woods. When he’s far enough away, he lets himself start to cry. The moon might as well be the sun, full as it is over the lake beside which he’s found himself. He knows he’s alone.

 

The first spell he looses freezes the water. The second melts it again. Taako throws them until he’s exhausted and trees are burning and the sand in the mud at the shore is shining where it’s been super heated into glass beside him and his eyes are red and his throat is hoarse and his nose is running and he’s out of breath and he’s on his knees.

 

If he believed in any gods he’d say something to them. He doesn’t.


	5. Taako: The Poisoning Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At 3am the next morning, Taako is broken from his hours of attempts at meditation by an epiphany that hits him like a cannonball. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and trickles down his spine as he presses his hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming: in rage, in grief, in guilt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more reference to Sazed as an abusive partner in this chapter, as well as Taako's poisoning incident at Glamour Springs, death and vomiting. Please proceed with caution.

Half a year later, Sazed wants something again. Taako has learnt by and large, through snipes and bruises and broken precious things, to let him have it. He’s used to Sazed’s roughness by now. Sometimes he thinks he does it on purpose. He’s numb, either way. He knows how to mask the bruises with makeup. He knows how to stop himself from flinching. He knows how to bite his tongue to keep from answering back.

 

“Why not call it Sizzle it up with Taako and Sazed?”

 

Sazed’s tone doesn’t really leave room for argument but in that moment Taako is 21 years old again and he has a stupid idea and it’s the best idea he’s ever had and then time passes and it works and people love it. They love him. He’s good at it. This is _his_. It’s one of the very few things in his life that is.

 

He stares and Sazed raises an eyebrow, and Taako knows that expression and braces himself. He wets his dry mouth. “Uh, what about the t-shirts?”

 

Sazed snorts. “The t-shirts? You’ve got to be kidding. We can re-print those, no problem.” He steps forward and Taako fights with all he has not to step back and pretends not to hear the voice in his head that says he doesn’t have any pride left anyway.

 

“The posters?” Taako’s voice is thin and high and he hates it.

 

Sazed starts to frown. “Even easier. If you’ve got a problem babe, spit it out already.”

 

Taako thinks he’s going to throw up. Sazed is bigger than he is: he’s tall for a human and Taako’s short for an elf and every spell he knows seems to have disappeared from his mind in sheer panic.

 

“W-well I just. You. I.”

 

“Do you think you’re better than me? Is that it?” Sazed’s voice is both deceptively calm and not calm at all and Taako is starting to shake and he’s pretending that he isn’t and Sazed doesn’t seem to care.

 

“N-no I just don’t think you really have. Star quality?” The last words are said in a squeak but Sazed hears them and then his fist is in Taako’s hair and he’s slamming his head against wood and Taako’s ears are ringing as Sazed’s knee lifts to hit his gut. His last thought before he passes out is that it’s going to be hard to hide this on their next show.

 

When Taako wakes up his ribs are aching and Sazed has made soup. It doesn’t taste very good. He doesn’t comment. His lip is swollen and his fingers hurt. His gut aches and he hopes he isn’t bleeding. Sazed sits beside his bed and acts contrite.

 

He says, “I’m sorry baby, you just drive me crazy.”

 

He says, “you know how you are, and I get that you find it hard to act like a decent person, but sometimes it’s hard, you know?”

 

He says, “you’re just kind a lot to handle.” He pretends to laugh, “you know, you can be kind of selfish and a bit vain and it gets on my nerves.” He pretends to laugh again. “They’re not very attractive qualities, sweetheart.”

 

Taako watches him and he just feels tired. Sazed tousles his hair and he doesn’t feel anything at all. “Anyway, I’m sorry you made me do that. I should be better at handling your tantrums by now! If you want to keep this to yourself, that’s ok. We can talk about it later.”

 

Taako shudders and both of them pretend they don’t notice. Sazed drops a kiss on his forehead and he tries not to flinch. “Anyway, you better brush up. Don’t want to let down your fans, right?”

 

When he leaves their bedroom, he’s whistling.

 

For a while, Taako lies still, watching the soup get cold. He tries not to think about anything at all. After a little longer, with difficulty, he sits up. He wishes his magic was any good for healing. Then he focuses on what he can do. He lifts the spoon Sazed left for him: his fingers are bruised and grazed, he thinks he remembers Sazed stepping on them, and takes a sip before wrinkling his nose.

 

Then he takes a deep breath, and thinks, and casts a spell under his breath. The soup bubbles lightly. He eats another mouthful. That’s better.

 

Taako lets himself smile, and it hurts. He shuts his eyes and breathes again. One step at a time.

 

* * *

 

 Taako can’t breathe. He’d checked. He’s made this recipe more times than he count. This has never happened before. How could this have happened?

 

He stares at the bodies before him and they’re ugly: their faces are grey and blue and their mouths are swollen and they stink of vomit and _he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe_. Eyes wide, he turns to the food. A thought goes through his mind. He doesn’t let himself process it. He reaches for a bite.

 

Sazed’s rough hands grab him from behind, and it’s then that beyond the ringing in his ears he hears sirens in the distance. The air is thick with the scent of blood and bile and Taako can’t breathe. Sazed is saying something and he can’t hear it but he’s dragged off the stage and as he is he stumbles over his own feet.

 

He’s so cold.

 

Sazed slaps him and Taako snaps out of it for long enough to hear him say, “we need to go”, and then he’s being pushed into their caravan and he hears Sazed run to the front and whip the ponies and Taako hates it when he does that. And then they’re moving and the caravan is lurching and Taako vomits, again and again and again until it’s moving on the wood and he has nothing left and he’s shaking and he keeps retching and he can’t stop crying and his makeup stings his eyes.

 

When they stop, at last, Taako doesn’t know how long they’ve been travelling for. Sazed sees him and sees the state he’s in and swears but he’s gentle when he picks him up and pulls him out of the stinking space. He’s careful as he wipes Taako clean with cold water from their canteen, and he’s kind when he drops a blanket around his shoulders, before going into their caravan with a mop and a bucket.

 

Taako doesn’t know how much time passes. He feels like his feet aren’t quite on the earth. Every time he blinks he sees their faces. There were women there. Elderly people. Children. They cared about him. They trusted him.

 

They were dead.

 

Forty people were dead.

 

Taako almost throws up again. He manages to swallow it down and starts to shiver, violently. Sazed comes back and starts to light a fire.

 

After a long silence he sighs and asks, “what happened?” Taako doesn’t know.

 

He says, “you should’ve let me help.” Taako doesn’t say anything.

 

At 3am the next morning, Taako is broken from his hours of attempts at meditation by an epiphany that hits him like a cannonball. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and trickles down his spine as he presses his hand to his mouth to stop himself from screaming: in rage, in grief, in guilt.

 

The fucking elderberries. He hadn’t checked the fucking elderberries.

 

When Sazed wakes up, Taako tells him what he did. He watches shock and confusion pass across his face, and years later he’ll know why. But then Sazed’s expression becomes impassive. He starts to pack. Two hours later, he’s gone.

 

Taako is on his own again. He throws up.

 


	6. Taako: The Tres Horny Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six years later, Taako meets a human who’s tall for his race and broad for a warrior called Magnus Burnsides. Then he meets a dwarf who’s as haggard as you’d expect and cynical for a cleric. Between them they look like more than half the people who’ve ever hurt him.
> 
> Taako pretends that doesn’t bother him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References Murder on the Rockport Limited, Petals to the Metal and the Crystal Kingdom. Otherwise generally canon typical strong language and violence. Taako is a very traumatised man.

Six years after that, Taako meets a human who’s tall for his race and broad for a warrior called Magnus Burnsides. Then he meets a dwarf who’s as haggard as you’d expect and cynical for a cleric. Between them they look like more than half the people who’ve ever hurt him.

 

Taako pretends that doesn’t bother him.

 

Things happen. A town dies and Taako nearly falls back on old habits but he reigns it in and then he’s on the moon and he’s signing up for something he’s not sure he wants and he doesn’t know why he’s been kept around but he’s not going to admit that out loud. He’s Taako, after all.

 

They fight together and they joke together and they survive together and Taako tells himself he doesn’t care but that doesn’t stop him risking life and limb to save them and everyone they come across. For the first time in decades they value him neither for his cooking nor for his looks. It means more than he’s willing to let himself think it does.

 

He’s strong, and people respect him, and they care. He thinks they care. He’s not sure that he’s going to believe that yet.

 

Three months later they’re on the moon again. Taako threw a train through a portal and he’s still sort of reeling from that but it’s a reeling kind of glee and he’s playing with lightning in his fingertips and he goddamn loves this umbrella.

 

When Magnus comes in, looking exhausted from a sparring match with Killian (he should’ve seen that coming) and asks if Taako can whip something up, Taako blows him off with a distracted air of nonchalance.

 

Magnus rolls his eyes and mutters “fucking elves,” and Taako’s ears press flat back against his skull and he flinches before he can stop himself, and then he’s red because he hears Magnus catch himself and he looks up to see that Magnus is red too and he absolutely cannot do this.

 

He’s gone before Magnus can open his mouth.

 

A few hours later, Merle finds him. He doesn’t say anything as he sits beside him, next to the window looking out on Faerun. Taako is grateful for that. He takes a minute more to let the storm of memories in his head subside.

 

After a moment, Merle says, softly, “Magnus can be an idiot, sometimes. I’ll admit that.” Taako huffs and Merle chuckles a little before continuing. “I think we both know that he’d rather take a knife to the gut than say something like that again, though.”

 

Taako chews the inside of his cheek and doesn’t look at the dwarf beside him. Softly, he replies, “that’s what they all say, half-pint.”

 

Merle hums, brushing aside the insult. “I guess that’s true.” They’re quiet for another moment longer. In the distance, Taako can hear the sounds of metal on metal. They don’t scare him like they used to.

 

Another moment stretches between them, before Merle says, “you know he wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

 

Taako doesn’t say anything. He feels Merle turn to look at him. It’s dark in this big, empty room, beyond the light from the planet below them. Neither one notices. “Taako?”

 

Taako takes a deep breath. “Obviously. It’s just rude, is all.”

 

He fiddles with his nails. His ears twitch. He pretends to himself that he’s still breathing evenly. Merle watches all of this. Taako’s pretty sure that a century or so of life will mean that he knows what “this” means. He prays to gods he doesn’t believe in that Merle doesn’t say anything about it.

 

Maybe Pan hears him, because Merle doesn’t. Instead he sits back and lets out a long breath. “Ok.”

 

The next day, Taako finds a pile of beautifully carved wooden mixing bowls next to his pack, and a note written in clumsy handwriting full of apologies and self-incriminations. He pretends he doesn’t smile. But when he sees Magnus, he acts like nothing has happened.

 

Magnus’ relief is palpable, and Taako breathes deeply and tries not to let it make him feel better, too.

 

* * *

 

 Somehow Candlenights has swung around. Taako can hardly keep track of the time that’s passed. He knows that in that time neither Merle nor Magnus have made any comments about “fucking elves” in his earshot. Magnus, ever the tactile friend, has learned not to touch his hair, and instead he settles for warm, gentle clasps of his arm and shoulder.

 

Taako pretends that neither of them have ever seen him flinch and knows he’s lying to himself. He’d be lying, too, if he told himself he hadn’t noticed their curiosity. Worse, their concern.

 

It’s 1am and Taako is in the kitchen. He can do this. It’s been six years. He’s on a fucking secret moon base, for gods’ sake. He has bigger concerns these days. This is nothing.

 

His hands shake as he mixes the ingredients for his signature macarons. This’ll be great. People will love it. They’ll want to keep him around. When a hulking, heavy-footed human shape appears in the doorway, Taako nearly jumps out of his skin.

 

Suddenly he’s sixteen again and there’s a man in the doorway and the kitchen s dark and Taako forgets that he has magic and that he’s handy with a dagger and he grabs a wooden spoon and jumps backwards and barely notices the sparks flying around his fingers.

 

Squinting, Magnus raises his hands. “Woah, um, I come in peace?” He swears and steps back, fumbling for a light switch. “Dammit, I can’t see anything in here. Taako? Is that you? Sorry if I scared you buddy.”

 

The lights flick on and Taako’s eyes water at the sudden change. He blinks rapidly and pretends he doesn’t notice the rapid rise and fall of his own chest as he puts down the spoon.

 

Magnus looks honestly concerned and Taako’s heart hurts because he really, truly wants to believe that it’s sincere and he can’t let himself do that. “Are you ok? You look like you saw a ghost.”

 

Magnus’ posture and expression changes as he registers his own words. “Is that what it is? Is something here?” His hand moves to Railsplitter almost of its own accord, and Taako manages to gather his thoughts and composure for long enough to shake his head.

 

“Don’t you think I’d be doing something if there was, numbskull?”

 

Magnus’ shoulders sag in relief and his mouth curls into a lopsided smile despite his words. “No need to be rude about it dude.”

 

And Taako knows he means well but his ears ring. _You know how difficult you are, babe. You’re so high maintenance, cupcake. You know how hard you make things for me, sweetheart. You make me like this, lover._

 

He bites his lip, but Magnus’ attention is drawn by the pastel mixture in the bowl Taako had left on the counter. “Oh, are you baking?” His tone is surprised, because Magnus is a lot of things but aloof isn’t really one of them.

 

Taako huffs. “I’m an excellent baker.”

 

Magnus hesitates, obviously trying to decide what to say in order to avoid hurting Taako’s feelings, and Taako wishes he wouldn’t. “Uh, that’s not exactly what I meant.”

 

Taako takes a deep breath and moves back to his work, and wishes with all he has that Magnus won’t get any closer. “Whatever. What are you doing up so late, anyway? I thought humans needed sleep or something.” As if he doesn’t know.

 

Magnus sighs and leans against the wooden counter. It creaks a little under his weight. “I couldn’t. Bad dreams, you know?”

 

Taako thinks of being nineteen years old and waking up in a stranger’s bed and hurting in places he hadn’t been hurt before. He knew. He makes a non-committal sound. “Well, elves don’t sleep.”

 

Magnus huffs. “But you get like, anxious and stuff, right?”

 

Taako shrugs. “If it helps you to believe it baby.”

 

Magnus rolls his eyes. For a moment they settle into something that Taako refuses to confess is companionable silence. Then Magnus says, “I was thinking of Hurley.”

 

Taako’s heart jumps into his throat. He’d liked that Halfling. As a rule, he found it easier to get along with women. But she’d been real. Brave. Good.

 

He tries not to think of cherry trees. Magnus catches the expression on his face anyway, or maybe it’s the way his ears droop downwards, as he starts to shape his macarons. “Yeah. I’m pretty torn up about it.”

 

Magnus is an open man. He trusts and cares easily. Taako envies this about him, but he also fears it. In his most honest moments, he can admit to himself that it worries him. How can he be so unguarded? Doesn’t he know what the world does to people who trust like that?

 

“It wasn’t your fault.” He says it quietly, ignoring the voices in his head telling him that this ruins his facade. The one where he doesn’t care. The one where he doesn’t care if no one cares about that fact. The one where he pretends he doesn’t know that Magnus and Merle care.

 

Magnus hums. “Yeah, I know. I think. It still sucks.” Taako doesn’t disagree with him, so he doesn’t say anything, slipping his pan into the oven.

 

“Do you think about it?”

 

Taako nearly asks him how he can ask that. But he bites his tongue and answers honestly instead. “Yeah, I do.”

 

Magnus seems almost surprised by his honesty. He’s quiet for a little while longer. He’s not always a man of many words, and it’s something Taako’s come to...not _like_ , he doesn’t _like_ people, but appreciate about him.

 

After a minute Magnus speaks again. “I don’t know what I’d do if a relic corrupted you. Or Merle.”

 

It’s not like the thought hasn’t occurred to him. Taako shrugs, leaning back against the oven and folding his arms. “You’d probably have to kill me, my dude.” He tries not to imagine a reality in which that would happen. One where he’d hurt Magnus. He tries not to think of his magic turning on him. Turning on _them_.

 

Magnus makes a sound of distress. “Taako.”

 

Taako misunderstands completely. “You have my permission. Honestly, I don’t actually want to hurt anyone. Well, not the good guys anyway.”

 

If anyone other than Magnus had grabbed his shoulder that fast and hard, Taako would have flinched. He surprises himself when he doesn’t. Magnus’ soft brown eyes are hurt and earnest when he looks into them, and he looks away again quickly.

 

“Come on, Taako, you know I couldn’t do that. Hell, I have nightmares about...” He cuts himself off, flushing a little.

 

Taako raises an eyebrow and tries to find the part of him that’s cold, and numb, and sharp. “What, hurt me? It’s easier than you’d think.”

 

It’s Magnus’ turn to flinch. Taako almost expects him to snap something back. With a shock, he realises he wants him to. Wants him to just snap already. Be angry, judgmental, hurt him. It would be so much easier than whatever this is.

 

But Magnus doesn’t do any of that. Taako glances back at the oven in the time that passes. And then Magnus says, “a lot of people have done that, haven’t they?”

 

Taako decides to play dumb. “Done what?”

 

Magnus’ voice breaks a little when he clarifies, as if he can’t bear to say the words. “Hurt you.”

 

Taako feels his breath rush out of him and pretends he doesn’t and lifts a shoulder in a forced shrug. “I’ve had my ups and downs.”

 

“Taako.” Magnus’ voice sounds strangled but it’s still soft. “You know,” Taako’s hands are starting to shake and he tucks them under his arms to make it stop. He’s going to need to take those cookies out of the oven soon. He should have made the icing already.

 

He busies himself with that instead of the hulking, scarred man beside him. After a minute Magnus says with painful sincerity, “listen, you don’t have to talk about if you don’t want to.” And that’s a novel concept. “But Taako, I honestly care about you. Truly. By this point you’re.” Magnus hesitates, because he’s open but he’s careful about deep feeling and that’s obvious enough to anyone who’s known him for more than five minutes.

 

But then Magnus says, “you’re a brother to me, alright? I don’t want to hurt you. I want to help. I mean. I don’t what I could do. But I hear talking about it is a good start.”

 

Taako wants to scream. He wants to swear and fight and yell. He wants to hit him or hurt him with magic or cut him. He wants to run away. He wants to be cold, he wants to offer to seduce him, he wants to do anything but this. He wants to be sick.

 

He crouches down in front of the oven. He takes a long, slow, deep breath. He ignores how hard he’s shaking. “I’ve got a lot to say.”

 

He feels Magnus’ surprise. For a moment he doesn’t say anything. Then he says, “okay.”

 

Taako lets himself breathe. He wets his dry mouth. “It’s not a pretty story.”

 

He feels Magnus shift behind him, and tenses in case he comes closer. He doesn’t, simply adjusting his weight instead. He says, with a little more certainty this time. “Okay.”

 

Taako takes the cookies out of the oven. He reminds himself to breathe.

 

“When I was a kid I ran away from home. People were always surprised by that. They used to talk about how they’d never seen an elf so young outside the citadels.”

 

He doesn’t tell him everything. He can’t do that yet. He doesn’t talk about Sazed. He avoids talking about sex in general. But he says things and his chest feels lighter and it’s dizzying and not exactly all good but it’s a start and Magnus doesn’t judge him once. When he can’t say anything else: when too much has come out in one long unbroken monologue and he feels like he’s just unspooled his intestines, Magnus very quietly asks if it’s alright if he hugs him.

 

Like a deer in headlights, Taako tries to think it through. He’s so rarely been touched with sincere affection that doesn’t want anything else from him. After a long moment, he says, “alright.” And then Magnus is stepping forwards and he’s big and he’s warm and he feels safe and Taako will not admit the way that he shudders, sobbing into his chest, and Magnus doesn’t say anything about it.

 

* * *

 

By 6am, Taako’s worked his way through six platters of increasingly perfect macarons that he hasn’t let Magnus touch. Magnus is yawning, and Taako begrudgingly admits to himself that it elicits a wave of affection in him.

 

When Merle comes into the doorway, both of them jump. “Did you boys have a slumber party without me?” For a middle-aged dwarf, he sounds more than a little put out by this concept. Taako figures he’s got enough affection to go around and offers a smile that so obviously surprises Merle he nearly regrets it.

 

“We’ll invite you next time, old man.”

 

Merle beams so widely his eyes crinkle, and Taako feels his cheeks dimple as he returns the expression. Then Merle’s eyes move to the macarons, and he’s surprised again. Taako blushes a little.

 

“Those look amazing.” Merle sounds sincere, and Taako’s blush deepens even as he tries to brush it off.

 

“Well, I was on TV, you know.”

 

Merle reaches for one and the rush of panic that hits him is so hard that he’s nearly sick. Scrambling forwards and waking a half-sleeping Magnus, Taako whisks the cookie out of Merle’s hand. Merle blinks.

 

Taako grasps for a plausible excuse. “They’re not ready yet.”

 

Merle raises one bushy eyebrow. Magnus rubs a little sleep out of his eyes. “What’s going on?”

 

“I mean, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but they look ready to me...” Merle trails off, obviously hesitant to pursue this line of conversation.

 

But Taako’s a new elf, and he takes a deep breath, sets his shoulders and waves his hand. Icing sugar falls like snow over the platters and Magnus’s eyes widen.

 

“Pretty.”

 

Then Taako fishes a blueberry macaron from the top of one platter and hands it, as graciously as he can (which is pretty damn gracious, he’s a born performer) to Merle. “I believe blueberry is your favourite.”

 

He doesn’t say, _and you can heal yourself if I fucked this up_. _Plus you’re resistant to poison_. _A dwarven cleric. I should have thought of this months ago._

 

Merle takes a bite of the cookie and Taako can’t quite believe that he’s holding his breath, as invested as he ever was in getting feedback on his baking.

 

Merle’s eyes actually sparkle, and he laughs with something like delight, eating the rest of the cookie in one bite and reaching for another. Taako smacks his hand away and pretends he isn’t watching the older man’s face for signs of pallor or cold sweat. “Feasting after feedback dude.”

 

Merle raises his eyes heavenwards but the exasperation is as clumsily put on as that of a bad actor. “Taako, that is the best goddamn sweet that I have ever eaten.”

 

“And not poisoned?” Magnus interjects, with all the tact of an elephant on rollerskates. Taako’s ears press back against his skull immediately, and Merle frowns, admonishing him sternly.

 

“Magnus!”

 

Magnus ignores him, grabbing a pink macaron from another platter and eating it in one bite. “They’re not though, are they?” He says with his mouth full.

 

Taako grimaces, and pretends he doesn’t care when Magnus’ expression turns into the same one of glee that Merle is wearing. “Holy shit, that’s fucking amazing Taako.” He makes a show of pressing a hand to his forehead and then says, a little more gently. “And it’s not poisoned. You know what this means, right?”

 

And despite the past few hours, and days, and weeks, and months, Taako expects him to say something cruel. What he doesn’t expect is thick, brawny arms to wrap around his waist as he’s lifted off his feet. “You did it!” Magnus crows, gleefully, ignoring Taako slapping at his hairy forearms.

 

“You can do it Taako! Yeah!” Merle starts to laugh too, offering a whoop and punching the air, and after another twenty seconds of holding himself as stiff as an unhappy cat, Taako relaxes, and smiles, and raises his arms into the air.

 

“Hell yes. Taako’s back baby!”

 


	7. Taako: That Magic Healing Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He always sort of expected that Death would teach him his last lesson about love, but the scenario he’d imagined had been far more grizzly than a bashful, breath-takingly handsome undead bounty hunter politely asking whether it was ok to kiss him on the cheek, please.

It’s not as simple as that, obviously. But it’s a start. And over the weeks and months that follow, Taako starts getting better. For the first time in his life he’s not just holding himself together. He’s healing.

 

He’d be lying if he claimed that process wasn’t expedited by the appearance in his life of a small, irritatingly clever boy with big glasses and a bigger heart. He lied about that often. He would also obliterate anyone who hurt him.

 

So Magnus and Merle help with the friendship thing. The companionship thing. The hurting thing. And Angus helps with the being needed thing. The being respected thing. The being wanted for something other than sex or service thing. Taako remembers that he has the capacity to nurture, and care, and be kind. He re-learns that fact that he’s loyal, and clever, and funny, and gentle.

 

He always sort of expected that Death would teach him his last lesson about love, but the scenario he’d imagined had been far more grizzly than a bashful, breath-takingly handsome undead bounty hunter politely asking whether it was ok to kiss him on the cheek, please.

 

Taako learns, slowly, awkwardly, sometimes angrily and sometimes sadly, how to talk about intimacy. Over time, he learns how to talk about sex. He starts to observe the difference between fucking and making love. He starts to enjoy it. Over time, Kravitz doesn’t have to ask every time he wants to touch him. Over time, Taako doesn’t feel numb when he initiates the contact himself.

 

Then Refuge happens and Taako gives himself three hours to be calm before he’s having a panic attack in his room because he’s looking at Sazed and he’s looking at himself and his foundation didn’t hide the bruises as well he thought they did. And that bastard that asshole that piece of shit _he let him believe he killed them_.

 

He doesn’t notice Merle coming into the room, sharp vision blurred by tears and preoccupied as he is by the hiccoughing sobs that are ripping their way out of his chest. He feels a hand on his back and he nearly hits it away but he knows this smell: of earth and sage and metal and leather, and he doesn’t think about it before collapsing into the dwarf’s shoulder, flinging his arms around him.

 

This is the best possible timeline for Taako. Yeah, right.

 

Later, when he can breathe again, and Merle’s found him some cold water, and surreptitiously cast a Calm Emotions spell that Taako felt but didn’t remark upon, he explains, as well as he can. He hadn’t yet told Magnus and Merle about Sazed. He’d sort of hoped he’d be able to never talk about it again.

 

He feels Merle’s anger and his grief as if it were his own. By this point it’d be hard not to. You don’t watch a guy get his arm chopped off without becoming closer as friends.

 

Merle doesn’t judge him. He doesn’t rail against Sazed, either, and Taako’s grateful for that because he’s not sure he can handle any more emotions than the ones that feel like they’re ripping his body apart.

 

A little while later, Angus comes to the door, a smile on his face and a ridiculously oversized hat pulled over his curly black hair. He takes in the tableau before him: Taako on his knees, eyes red, head and ears hung low, Merle beside him, looking tired and angry, and then he turns and runs out of the room, calling for Magnus.

 

With Taako’s permission, Merle explains what he’s told him to Magnus. Magnus’ features follow the same path of anger and grief that Merle’s had, though it’s obvious the chalice’s visions hit him hard, too.

 

After a long moment, they just sit and hold one another, and Taako and Merle pretend not to notice that Magnus is crying. They know he’ll tell them when he’s ready.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Angus comes back with a hilariously lopsided cake, flanked by Carey and Killian and No3113 and Avi. Magnus lets them in, and Carey takes one look at him before raising a hand gently to his face and saying, softly, “it’s ok.”

 

He hugs her and she hugs him back and Killian sits on the couch next to Merle and says, gruffly, “tough mission, huh?” No3113 busies herself with tidying the flat, washing dishes and collecting clothes into piles.

 

Angus tugs on Taako’s cardigan. Taako’s feeling numb again by now, but he pulls on a smile for the boy detective. “Sir, do you mind if we speak in private?”

 

Taako’s heart sinks. He’s not sure he can take anything else tonight. He nearly says as much, but Angus is looking at him with big brown eyes and Taako hopes he doesn’t know how hard he finds it resist that puppy dog look because then he’s really fucked.

 

They step into the darkness of the hall and Taako leans back against the cool wall and tries to mask the relief that flows through his body at the simple comfort. Angus pushes his glasses up his nose, and Taako reminds himself for the fiftieth time to buy the kid a new pair.

 

“It’s obvious to me that you’ve been traumatised in the past.” Oh boy Taako does not want to have this conversation. He straightens and he’s about to open his mouth when Angus looks at him, a little sternly (not that sternly, he is a ten year old) and says, “please let me finish sir.”

 

Taako sighs and leans back against the wall and tells himself it’s because he doesn’t have the energy to fight any more.

 

“You display symptoms of quite severe post traumatic stress and anxiety disorders. I suspect that you have been abused repeatedly and extensively in the past.” Angus hesitates, glancing at Taako out of the corner of his eye. Taako’s expression is impassive, but his ears are pressed back against his skull. Angus winces. “I suspect that you have also been sexually abused.”

 

Taako doesn’t say anything, and Angus barrels forward. “I suspect these things and my investigations have to some extent confirmed them. I have decided not to continue my investigations, because I do not want to breach your privacy more than I already have. I don’t want to do this because I like and respect you greatly, sir, and I regret any line that I’ve already crossed.”

 

Taako blinks and draws a breath to say something and honestly doesn’t know what he’s going to say before Angus continues. Taako wonders, with the very faintest hint of amusement, whether this speech has been rehearsed.

 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, sir. I think something triggered you today, and I think it hurt you badly. And I just. I wanted to say.” Angus’ confidence is leaving him now, and he blushes and fidgets as he finishes. “I wanted to tell you that I know, and you don’t have to explain, and I’m here for you because I care about you, and if you ever want to talk about it, then you can talk to me.”

 

Taako takes a long, deep breath. Then he casts Prestidigitation and makes Angus’ nose disappear. Angus’ eyes cross, and he blinks in shock before he smiles, patting at the area where his nose should be. He looks up at Taako and his eyes are bright and Taako thinks, that’s enough. That’s all he needs, really.

 

“I need my nose for my investigations, sir!” Angus doesn’t sound horrified this time. Instead he’s giggling, and his cheeks are dimpled. Taako offers him a lopsided smile and waves his hand, and Angus’ nose reappears.

 

Then Taako bends down, and his hair falls over his shoulder as he does so, and he looks into Angus’ brown eyes. Angus watches him anxiously, and Taako makes sure his smile is soft and his eyes are warm as he speaks. “Thanks, kid, but I already know.”

And Angus’ anxiety turns into relief and Taako presses a very gentle kiss to his forehead before standing back up.

 

When Angus reaches up to hold his hand, Taako lets him, and he tells himself he isn’t holding on as hard as he is when they walk back into the room. He tells himself he doesn’t hear Angus say, very softly and very sincerely, “I love you too, Taako.”

 

Taako’s ears prick up. He’d hesitate to say it, he thinks, as Angus lets go of his hand and jumps into Magnus’ lap, and Merle and Avi get into a heated discussion about engines, and Carey and Killian try to subtly trade glances whilst No3113 makes food, but he’s pretty sure how to describe this feeling.

 

He’s over the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap. Wow. If you can believe it, this whole thing was written and edited in one day, so please be kind. I feel strongly about this elf wizard. I hope you liked the story. Thank you for reading!


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